


Opposite side

by UlsPi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, May/December Relationship, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sassy Sansa Stark, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28312338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Tywin Lannister loses a case against Sansa Stark who in turn invites him for an outing with her family because she's not bitter and thinks he shouldn't be either.It escalates quickly.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Tyrion Lannister & Tywin Lannister, Tywin Lannister/Sansa Stark
Comments: 43
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is probably terribly ooc, but I can't help it. Hope you enjoy it and thank you for being here.

Tywin Lannister, attorney at law, unlocks the door of his spacious house and walks inside. 

The moment the door shuts behind him, he lets himself breathe deeply and think. 

He's just had the worst day of his career and probably of his life. 

He toes off his shoes and walks to the kitchen. The lights would only bother him, so he doesn't bother with them. He finds a bottle of whiskey and takes a generous swig.

"Father?" A groggy voice calls him.

Tywin spins around and sees his youngest son sprawled on the sofa in the living room. He can't really see Tyrion, but it's comforting to know he's there… The thought makes Tywin wince. 

He sits heavily by the dinner table. 

***

When he was young and just starting out, he had only his wits and a ruined family name to himself. He didn't care about what people thought of him, he made it his mission to succeed and he did so. 

Along the way he met Joanna, and she became his loyal partner and friend and spouse.

Joanna didn't want a career, she ended up in the law school following her family's wishes, but the moment she and Tywin got together she felt free enough to abandon all career pursuits and concentrate on their new family. 

Tywin worked late, worked all the time, and Joanna waited for him at home, wherever their home was at the moment, until the day they could afford a proper house, and a big one at that! 

Joanna wanted children, wanted to be able to give them a home and a refuge, regardless of their age. 

They started trying for a baby, but Joanna remained decidedly not pregnant. 

Tywin blamed himself, Joanna blamed herself… They were quite a pair. 

Turned out it was Joanna who was infertile. 

The treatment took away Joanna's body - first and foremost from Joanna, who got rid of all the mirrors the moment she couldn't look at herself without crying. There was a lot of crying too, and she was tired and unhappy. 

Tywin's career, on the other hand, was on the rise. He was quickly becoming the most sought out attorney, before long he had his own firm. His younger brother Kevan joined him. Kevan had no trouble having children, which led to an estrangement of a few years, until Joanna triumphantly announced that she was finally pregnant. 

They had twins, a boy and a girl, and Joanna was of course a perfect mother, while Tywin did his best to be a perfect father. 

Jaime and Cersei were healthy and mischievous, and neither parent could refuse them a thing, having waited for them for so long. 

Joanna was told that she wouldn't survive another pregnancy. She was strongly advised to have a hysterectomy. Joanna wouldn't ever let anyone decide for her, and Tywin thought that in the end the decision had to be hers, but in her desire to have more children Joanna kept ignoring all the warnings. 

She did get pregnant again, and refused any medical interference. Tywin relied on her and trusted her. Even looking back, he couldn't have imagined himself telling her to stop, to have an abortion, to listen to yet another doctor telling her that she was risking her life and the life of her unborn child.

Joanna Lannister died in labour, alone in her lovely house, with her baby almost drowning in the bath, while Jaime and Cersei were at their friends' house for a sleepover.

Tywin didn't know what to do, how to move, when he came home to find his wife dead and his newborn son sliding off his mother's unresponsive body and into the lukewarm bathwater. 

That was how Tyrion was born. 

Cersei hated her brother and blamed Joanna's death on him. Jaime didn't hate anyone, but he always listened to his sister. 

Tyrion had achondroplasia and frequent ear infections, which naturally led to Tywin getting much less sleep than he needed. Still, he didn't let anyone come close to his youngest child. 

Through the years the overbearing care turned into a frantic need to control Tyrion's life. 

Tywin hated himself for the way he treated his youngest son, but he felt compelled to protect and nurture him, even if Tyrion grew up to be more stubborn than his father and mother combined, even though he was the smartest of the Lannister children - the fact Cersei couldn't accept. 

Tywin was too busy balancing his career and his family to have noticed that Cersei relentlessly bullied her brother, but at least Jaime was brave enough to tell everything to Tywin one night. 

Furious with Cersei, Tywin sent her away to a boarding school. He wouldn't listen to any advice, just like Joanna had used to. He wanted to protect his children. His legacy. 

Jaime went into the army. Tywin could see that his eldest son tried to get away from his father.

And Tyrion went to a law school and excelled there.

Cersei married a drunkard of a millionaire by the name of Robert Baratheon and pretended that it was everything she had ever wanted. She gave birth yearly, but stopped after her third child was born. 

There had been rumours about Cersei and Jaime having an affair, but Tywin was too busy and too proud, probably, to pay the rumours any mind. 

Tyrion worked his way up his father's firm. Tywin never helped him - on the contrary, he did his best to create more obstacles for his son than was necessary. 

But in Tywin's mind, he had been helping him. He didn't know there were other ways to help. He wasn't the one to give tender loving care, he didn't find it necessary… After all, the children had lost their mother and had to… get strong.

***

Jon Arryn was a legendary prosecutor, kind-hearted and principled, incorruptible, mostly undefeated but capable of losing gracefully and congratulating or apologising sincerely.

He was found dead in his office one morning. 

His wife Lysa demanded justice, insisted that her much older husband had been murdered and blamed Tyrion Lannister.

Tywin the attorney said that he'd cooperate with investigation and threatened to sue for slander, which was all fine and right, but Tywin the father coldly told his son, his colleague, a brilliant and kind man, that he believed him to be guilty, since Tyrion's habits were that of a debauched man.

***

Jaime was on a mission out of the country when he discovered that general Targaryen was a war criminal who turned to torture all too gladly. 

Jaime disobeyed and made sure to let the press know of his superior's crimes. The army refused to acknowledge Jaime's testament, so Jaime returned home a disgraced man.

Cersei was there to comfort him before Tywin and Tyrion. Before long Cersei and Jaime made all the tabloids scream about their affair. 

Tywin chose to ignore it, despite Tyrion's pleas. 

***

The Lannister twins became famous for being scandalous. Cersei claimed to care for her kids but did everything to drag them down with her. Tywin couldn't fathom what moved his daughter, what made her into such a vengeful and bitter woman. 

Tyrion pointed out that Tywin's sending her away instead of at least talking to her might have been the reason. 

Tywin stopped talking to Tyrion.

Through it all Tyrion continued living with his father and supporting him through thick and thin. By that point it was mostly thick. 

***

Robert Baratheon died in a gutter, choking on his own vomit. No one had expected anything else, but Jon Arryn had to investigate the issue. He must have had his suspicions. 

Whatever he had found out remained unknown. His papers had been burnt when his body was discovered. 

It only got uglier. 

Tyrion remained by his father's side, while his father chose to focus on Tyrion's private life, and yes, Tyrion ended up in too many beds to even keep count, but through it all he returned to his father, swallowed his glares and kept working for him. 

Tywin thought that leading his son's defence was just as good as any other parental gesture, so as he was sitting at his kitchen drinking whiskey straight from the bottle, he didn't know what to say to his son, who never failed him and who had just got acquitted. 

***

The prosecution team was represented by the Starks, a very old-fashioned family of lawyers and close friends of Jon Arryn's. 

Jon Arryn's wife Lysa was Ned Stark's sister in law. 

Oh, and Ned Stark had always ignored all the ways the law could be interpreted or twisted. He was just and fair, an insufferable knight. 

Most of the work, though, had been done by his eldest daughter Sansa, with his younger daughter Arya as a fearsome investigator. 

Nothing could hide from Arya. 

And Sansa was just as good as Tywin at sculpting the law to her needs. 

She was much younger, however, and angry and fiery. Well, she was ginger. 

She tended to wear black turtlenecks when in court and terribly over-the-top dresses when somewhere else.

Tywin hadn't taken her seriously, and… more fool, him.

While Tywin led a lousy defence and all but had given up on his son, Sansa and Arya had managed to prove that Tyrion couldn't be involved in Jon Arryn's death (exhibit a, b, c, all checks from the escort agency and some naughty pictures) and instead accused Petyr Baelish, a close associate of Tywin's and, as it turned out, Lysa's lover. 

Sansa didn't even flinch when the latter was brought up by her own witnesses and shot a well-aimed dagger at Tywin. "Prosecution rests," she said calmly.

  
  


She spoke confidently and without a trace of fear, and however much Tywin wanted to defeat her, the moment she went for the full dramatics and turned to Baelish, saying  _ How do you answer these charges… Mr Baelish? _ Tywin knew he had lost. 

Sansa dared make an accusation at court, and of course that little devil, Justice Lyanna Mormont, tried to fight it only to acquiesce that Sansa's accusations had been legitimate. 

Tywin hadn't had any illusions about Baelish, but to see the evidence of his misdeeds was painful.

***

"Father?" Tyrion stood up and approached Tywin. "Hey… it sucked, I know… but… you're not alone, dad. You're not alone."

Tywin hugged him. "I'm sorry, little cub, I'm so sorry! I thought…"

"You thought you were a righteous arse. Yeah. I know. We need to save Jaime now."

"Does he deserve saving?" 

"He does. He's an idiot, an honourable idiot, just like you. Cersei has been using him, and while it's too late to try and talk to Cersei, we still can save Jaime."

Tyrion kissed his father's forehead and went upstairs. 

Tywin stayed, shocked, shaken and holding a bottle of whiskey. His restless hands searched for something to fiddle with - and it had always been a silver box that Joanna had given him. It had a labyrinth to solve on the outside and her own picture on the inside. The soft rolling of the ball would help Tywin calm down, he could solve it without looking by listening to the ball. He liked to think that his skill and experience had turned the chaotic rolling around into a precise trajectory, which could serve as a good metaphor for his life, yet just as the ball's balance, life had proven to be not so easy to control in every aspect.

Tywin patted his pockets and tried to remember where he had seen his box the last time. 

There was music outside, wicked and relentless. 

He walked to the window, battling a headache, and looked outside.

There was a vintage Aston Martin parked obnoxiously on his driveway. 

Tywin grit his teeth. 

Sansa Stark stepped out of the car, a black turtleneck and all, and walked to Tywin's door. And ringed the bell.

Tywin growled.

Sansa waved something in front of the camera - that box, that labyrinth. 

Tywin growled again and pressed the button. 

***

Sansa walked in, invited-uninvited, who cared? She definitely didn't.

"Tywin? Tywin, I've got your magic box..? You can't kill me now when you lost your case, but I'm determined to return this box to you."

"What do you want?" Tywin stepped in front of her, meaning to scare her. He hadn't managed it in the courtroom, he didn't manage it facing her in his own house.

"I want to return this thing to you. My brothers had all sorts of plans for it, damn them boys…" She extended her arm with the box in it. "Hey, you lost your case. A first for you, but now you can relate to us all young lawyers."

Tywin grabbed the box from her hand. She kept looking at him with a pensive tilt of her head. "Is Tyrion alright? How is he?"

"What business is that of yours?" Tywin didn't exactly snap, but even his calm voice couldn't hide his frustration.

"He's a good man. A good friend too. Comforted me when I lost the case against your grandson… That little shit belongs in jail," she gritted her teeth. 

"You come to my house to gloat, you insult my family, you or your idiot brothers must have stolen my box…"

"Your list of accusations is impressive, although completely false. First, I came to your house instead of joining  _ my  _ family and yes, quite a few idiot brothers, one idiot cousin are among them. Also my sister is there. And my parents don't go out, but there's that nice club where they play good soft jazz and I could finally dance Lindy hop, and I'm diverging…" She shook her head. "I came to your house because when you stormed out like a pissed off teenager, your box fell out of your pocket. Your jacket, however fancy, isn't a cloak. You can't wave it dramatically." She smiled, just a smirk, barely visible in the dark. 

Tywin was for once quite lost for words. He wasn't even that angry anymore. 

"Second, you know that your grandson is a spoilt little shit who needs a good therapist and you know that he was guilty of DUI and fucking killing a young woman. He got away because Tyrion is brilliant… We got very drunk that day. 

The accusation of my stealing from you has been addressed along with your first point. Enough?"

"Quite," Tyrion replied. 

"Good." She extended a hand and Tywin shook it reluctantly. "Now… How about I teach you how to lose with grace? Go call Tyrion, we can pick up Jaime on the way and then there will be jazz and good drinks."

"Don't order me about. I might admire your wit and courage, but…"

"Go call Tyrion." But instead Sansa raised her voice and called him herself. 

Tyrion walked down, cursing, and turned the lights on on his way. 

"Sansa! Lovely to see you! Thank you for doing my father's job better than he has ever had!" Tyrion went to kiss her cheek, Sansa laughed and kissed him back. 

"You're very welcome, Tyrion. I'm trying to lure your family into the tenets of our jazz-themed outing."

"That's… very noble of you…" Tyrion looked confused and fond.

"I do hope so," Sansa smiled wider, then turned to Tywin again. "Come on, it'll do you good and I insist that we pick Jaime up. I think, judging from what you said, I have a perfect date for him."

"Oh dear, I'm coming!" Tyrion grabbed his coat and almost ran out to Sansa's car. 

"Come on, Tywin. Do me the honour," she added dramatically and even went to one knee. "Teach a bad girl how to glare majestically."

If she was hiding her fear, she was doing it spectacularly well, and if she was teasing him and playing with fire, she was doing it with confidence and wit. 

"You're ridiculous," Tywin muttered, looking away from Sansa. 

"Yes, and wearing very high heels which make it damn difficult to kneel and get up." Despite that, she did get up. "I am ridiculous and you lost to me. I'm about to make myself even more ridiculous by having a drink and dancing funnily. Now, come think of it, you can gloat and make gloomy remarks about the fates being cruel or some such shit. Come on." She grabbed Tywin's elbow and tugged him along, barely leaving him any time to get his coat. Sansa's own turned out to be tossed in the backseat of her car, white and fluffy. 

"Sansa, did you skin a unicorn for it?" Tyrion asked. He had apparently been fondling the garment while waiting. He looked very comfortable and at ease in Sansa's car. 

"No, Jon did," Sansa replied. Tyrion burst out laughing. 

"He couldn't! He looks like a… brunette unicorn!" Tyrion then turned to his father, face suddenly calm and… tender. "You sit upfront, dad. Long legs and all that. You two should start a club, you know?  _ Long-legged predators…  _ No, doesn't sound well."

Sansa started the car instead of a club. " _ Long-legged law lion  _ for you, Tywin, and my club would be…  _ Long-legged wolf on heels _ , which is both tragic and hysterical."

"Why lion?" Tywin asked. "Why wolf?"

"They call you law lion, in jest and adoration, in law schools across the country. Now, my dad is referred to as law wolf which is incidentally how I used to pronounce the word lawful when I learned it at the tender age of three… and I'm never living it down, apparently."

"Someone must have dated a vet," Tyrion mused. "How do you know the way to my brother's place?"

"You told me. I listen, Tyrion, I have ears, and they are dangerous."

"Not as sharp as your tongue," Tyrion replied. 

***

Jaime didn't seem eager to come along until Sansa stepped out of the car Jaime had been ogling instead of looking at his brother. 

"Holy shit, you're a Stark."

"And a Sansa. Come on,  _ Lannister.  _ I'll let you drive. Maybe. If you agree to meet Brienne Tarth."

"Br… what? The Brienne?" Jaime was already out and locking the door of his rather seedy apartment. 

"Tywin, your son doesn't know how to use articles," Sansa winked at Tywin. That was a first. No one had ever winked at Tywin, unless it was a tic that he triggered.

"He's dyslexic," Tywin admitted. 

"Oh, took you long enough to admit," Jaime grumped. Tyrion elbowed him.

"That's not how dyslexia works. Jon is also dyslexic and he's a splendid lawyer. In case we need someone to fight a hopeless cause without any thought whatsoever."

"Jon Snow is your… cousin?" Tyrion remembered. 

"Yep. A relative of that Targaryen bitch Jaime brought down. He never used the surname anyway. My aunt had a very peculiar taste in men…"

"Didn't bring him down, though." Jaime looked outside, at his own shaggy reflection.

"Well, Brienne can help with that. She's just as fearsome as Arya, but unlike Arya she wants her investigations to be published and have influence."

"Might as well have drawn a bullseye on her back," Jaime snapped.

"You'll like her. She'll never let you talk to her like that." Sansa nodded seriously. 

"Yes, I heard she's a terrible bear of a woman," Jaime remarked. 

"Hold on, Tyrion," Sansa said and placed her hand on Tywin's knee. "You should hold on too, it's an old car, so I'll provide additional support," she continued - then turned the car sending it into a spin, barely controlled but thrilling… 

"You speak of another human like that in my company, and I will toss you out, tie you up and ride over you in that bulldozer my mom got dad for his birthday. Twice. Understood?" 

Jaime stared at Sansa's nape. Tyrion was giggling. 

Tywin Lannister felt as if he had been colour-blind… No, no, nothing like that, no. He felt cracking and breaking at the seams. He felt warm, almost hot. He wanted to do something mindless and stupid, to be the idiot he had never got to be when he had the time and opportunity to be. He had always been serious, and it turned out he had overindulged in seriousness just as Tyrion overindulged in alcohol and unsafe sex.

And just as suddenly as he felt the heat and relaxed he realised for the first time that he was old  _ now _ , and when he could be young, he chose not to. 

Sansa masterfully exited the spin.

"You, Jaime fucking Lannister, are paying for all my rule breaking here, and you, Tyrion Lannister, are saving me from disbarment and suchlike."

"Or I could make a call," Tywin suggested. 

"Unfair and corrupt, but alright. Worth it. It was awesome! Weeeeeee!" Sansa laughed and punched the wheel. "We should do it more often. Just insult inanimate objects dear to my heart."

"Your car is shit?" Jaime suggested. 

"You should know shit, you're made of it," Sansa snorted. 

"Why do you want me to meet your friend?" Jaime asked. 

"She loves a bad boy, and from what I've read on the toilet, you're the worst."

"Oh, so you shit? Wouldn't have guessed!" Jaime snarked. 

"Why, it's very obvious! I'm not full of shit."

"I don't know about you, dear family, but I'm in awe," Tyrion said after a pause. No one could argue with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention but Sansa here is in her early thirties, quite aged-up. Tywin is in his early sixties.  
> Also, I love you all and can't stop writing, so here's a double update which I might yet turn into a triple one. Thank you.

The club proved to be very nice indeed - cozy booths, the sound not loud enough to be overwhelming, the musicians masterful. 

Tywin noticed the Starks because they turned out to have a penchant for black turtlenecks. 

"Hey, you brought the Lannisters! Now we're a proper hippy, peace-seeking parade!" A tall curly-haired man with a well-kept beard greeted them, standing up and offering Tywin his hand first. "An honour and a scare of my life, sir." 

"This is my brother Robb," Sansa introduced, taking a seat. Everyone else moved to make more space for the Lannisters.

"Same, sir," another man, taller, with messy and curly black hair offered his hand. "Jon Snow." He winked, very lousily, at Jaime. "Fuck Targaryens. We'll live to bring them all down."

"I'll help," an impossibly tall woman, blond with striking blue eyes and a terrible jumper whose better days couldn't be distinguished from its worse ones, offered her hand next. "Brienne Tarth."

"Brienne just won the Pulitzer!" Jon announced. "And I'm breaking my word to her, so I seek refuge," he laughed. 

"Brought you a skirt," a short dark-haired woman said, lifting a clear evidence bag with something sequined there. 

"And this is Arya," Sansa took the bag. "At least it's not a body bag, you morbid creature."

"You only needed a skirt," Arya deadpanned. Her black turtleneck was baggy. 

The drinks were ordered, the food was in abundance.

"What's about the turtlenecks?" Tyrion asked. 

"Keeps our throats warm," Arya replied serenely. "I'm wearing Robb's," she confessed. 

"That's why I'm wearing Jon's!" Robb accused.

"And that's why I'm wearing dad's!"

"You call your uncle dad?" Jaime asked.

"Well, he acts like my dad, what else should I call him?" Jon shrugged. 

"Smart, about the throats," Tywin said. 

"You should try it. Would look wicked on you," Sansa winked at Tywin, again. 

"We're dancing then?" Jon asked with a grin.

"We surely are. I'm off to change," she took the evidence bag and made her way out of the table, bumping into everyone. 

Tywin meant to recoil from her, but in vain. She didn't blush and didn't pay attention. 

The conversation continued, mostly friendly banter and nonsense. Jaime seemed lost in Brienne's eyes, Tyrion felt right at home and Tywin felt… comfortable. No one asked him to talk and addressed him with respect. 

Sansa returned frowning. "You packed my old skirt." She tossed the bag back to Arya who just smirked. 

"Your pants are great. You can pull off the wide leg, high waist pants. Go for it." She stuck her tongue out.

"Ok, before you kill each other, we're off to dance," Jon announced and pulled Sansa with him to the dancefloor.

"What?" Arya shrugged, meeting Robb's glare. "Don't tell me those pants don't do wonders for her. And her legs are ridiculously long, plus the heels."

"Sequins are terrible anyway," Tywin said, to his own surprise. 

"There. See, a proper authority figure supports my case." Arya shrugged again. 

Looking at the dancefloor, Tywin saw Sansa somehow both leading and doing everything backwards and in high heels, Lindy hop soft shoewear be damned. Jon fully embraced his own inferior position and just provided comic relief for Sansa, who danced with a small smile on her face and laughed off Jon's antics. 

The other dancers moved aside, to Jon's obvious horror - and pride. Sansa seemed to be focused on her partner and music and paid no mind to anything else. 

The musicians smiled at them. 

The whole atmosphere was friendly and free. 

Tywin felt a movement by his side and saw Jaime dragging Brienne to the dancefloor as well. Well, another first for the night. 

Jaime and Brienne weren't half as good as Sansa and Jon, but the feeling, the emotion was there, and Tywin decided that they were quite… cute together, complimenting each other's awkwardness. Jaime had always been ready to make a fool of himself and Brienne, although shy, felt better, it seemed, seeing a conventionally handsome man being an idiot. She laughed openly, and Tywin couldn't help noticing that Jaime smiled back at her the way he hadn't smiled in a long while - unabashed, unafraid, beautifully shameless.

"Fuck, I needed that!" Sansa landed next to Tywin. 

"And I didn't," Jon laughed and sat across the table from her. 

"And Ygritte will soon come back," Sansa said not unkindly. 

"Yeah, but I hate it when she's off to someplace cold and terrible!"

"I guess she knew what she wanted and you, Jon…"

"Please, don't parrot her!"

The whole table in unison said, "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Tyrion, per usual, had too much to drink, so Jaime called a cab and took his brother home, shooting longing glances at Brienne on his way out. 

Tywin felt exhausted, although he had to admit he had enjoyed the evening. He hadn't thought of his labyrinth box even once. 

Robb settled the bill, Sansa touched Tywin's shoulder. "I'll take you home, unless you're too afraid of my driving."

Tywin wasn't afraid, he followed Sansa obediently to her car and sat there, trying to gather his thoughts.

"So… was it everything you'd have hated it to be?" Sansa asked.

"No. It was… you were right. It was good." It tasted like rotten food to admit it but Tywin wanted to admit it.

"I'm glad," she nodded. 

For a while they remained silent.

"Look," she coughed and slightly blushed. Tywin did look, though. "Do you want to come back to mine? And by that I mean, do you want to have sex?"

"What, defeating me wasn't enough, now you want to wipe the floor with me in the bedroom as well?" 

"No, I'm not that kinky. My preferences are quite vanilla. So… do you want to come back to mine and like, let it go and loose and feel good?"

"You seem to have a very high opinion of yourself."

"No complaints so far," Sansa shrugged. "I'd take it as a no," and she turned the car towards Tywin's house without much further ado. The rest of the drive they stayed silent.

"I didn't mean to offend," Tywin began when Sansa parked, obnoxiously yet again, by his place.

"Offend? You didn't offend me. No means no. Please make sure Tyrion has aspirin."

Tywin wanted to say that Tyrion could and had to take care of himself, but before he said those words, he realised that he'd never offered any kind of care for Tyrion's hangovers, which, he tended to think, was what he was supposed to do, but now he just felt cruel.

He wouldn't mind being ruthless. He'd built his career on being impeccable, on appearing unmoved and unfeeling. Somehow it was all returning now and with vengeance. 

"Good night, Tywin," Sansa said with a tilt of her head.

"Jo never called it sex. She was very traditional and I didn't think I could interfere or lecture her." Tywin couldn't say why he was telling all this to Sansa, he couldn't say he was in control of the situation, which didn't upset him for once. He was tired, he was old and he didn't care what she'd think of him, if only because she appeared to have thought of him without malice. 

"I think it's very kind of you. Very right too. My mom is very traditional as well. Children, family, getting married… She didn't want us to have careers… Tywin?" 

"Yes, my girl?.. Fuck, I'm sorry…"

"It's alright. Go and have a good hot bath. Sleep well. I'll take you out for dinner come Friday." Sansa cupped Tywin's cheek. 

"Why?" He asked, trying not to lean into the touch. 

"I don't know. You're clever and awesome. I know you'd never hurt me. Fuck, I'm more sure about you never hurting me than I've been about any of my dates! So… let's have dinner on Friday. My treat, you pick the place. Now get out of my car before I proposition you once again or snog you."

"Are you threatening me?" Tywin chuckled.

"I am. Hope you're scared, but not scared enough to refuse a dinner. I'll pick you up at seven. Fuck off, Tywin, it's getting very teenager-y." Sansa smiled. Her hair was a mess and she smelled of sweat and sharp perfume, of lemons and mint - she had had a lemon mint cocktail at the club. Joanna would have never let him see her like that. Sansa didn't seem to care. She wasn't ashamed of her body. She'd definitely challenge anyone who'd dare suggest she had to behave differently.

"Good night, Sansa. And thank you."

"You're welcome," she nodded with enough grace for it to be called a bow. "Friday, seven, dinner. Good night."

The moment Tywin stepped out of the car, Sansa drove off, the tires screeching painfully. 

"Should have gone for a ride at least," Tyrion said from behind him. Tywin turned around to see both his sons smirking at him.

"That's the kind of an evil stepmother I could tolerate," Jaime added. 

"You're my sons!" Tywin boomed, and damn the neighbours.

"Oh no! I didn't know!" Tyrion clutched his imaginary pearls. "Did you?" He looked at Jaime. 

"I mean, I'm a dick, so it was kind of obvious," Jaime shrugged. "Dick, son of a dick."

"We do have dicks," Tyrion replied pensively. 

"You're being disrespectful. And in my way." Tywin moved to walk into the house, but his sons didn't budge. "One of you has to vomit and the other should either gloat or hold Tyrion's hair or pine for Brienne Tarth."

"Jaime did all this. He's a good dick." Tyrion nodded. "I should get a haircut." 

"You won't be a princess then," Jaime retorted.

"Can I enter my own house?"

"Nope. Call the smart sassy lady and tell her that she's awesome. I mean, if you get together she might let us drive her car," Tyrion examined his nails. 

"I want to go to sleep," Tywin tried again. 

"Did she ask you out? Did you kiss her?" Jaime asked in that annoying tone of his that he knew could drive his father mad.

Tywin pushed them aside and walked inside the house.

"I'll take it as a yes," Tyrion whispered loudly. 

"Alright, that's enough!" Tywin snarled.

"Dad, you can be soft. Never knew you had it in you. We're proud. Come, Jaime, let's google more of Ms Tarth's articles. I can help you make a macaroni card for her."

Tywin rolled his eyes - another first - and went upstairs. 

He wouldn't admit it to anyone, let alone Sansa, but he followed her instructions.

***

It was Thursday and Tyrion was working - and sexting with the opposing counsel, a fiery lady by the name of Daenerys, who incidentally was the daughter of the general Targaryen and belonged to a growing group of people who hated the general. 

His phone rang, and Tyrion had to stop both working and sexting, since it was Sansa.

"Hello, Ms Stark. My father is a terrible grump and a secret softie. Please, can you help me?"

"Hello, Mr Lannister. As it happens, I need your father's number."

"Member?"

"Don't be crude."

"Oh shit, you sound like him. My wicked stepmother-to-be."

"I just asked him out… twice. And might have propositioned him. Your father's sex life is just as miserable as… your attempts at being crude."

"I'll send you his number. Might trick him into a dick pic, if you're interested."

"No, thank you, I'll manage. His number. And beware of Daenerys."

"How do you..?"

"Doesn't matter. Ok, she's a classmate. She thinks she needs my advice for asking you out."

"We've been… sexting."

"Well, she's ready for the next step, but wait until she makes it. She hates being predictable… Fuck, she burnt the dormitory once. Got really pissed off with a microwave… Can't blame her."

Sansa hung up. Tyrion sighed and went to his father's office.

"Dad? So… Sansa wants to call you. I'm about to reveal some very secret information to her."

Tywin didn't raise his head. "Probably to cancel the dinner tomorrow. Tell her I'm fine."

"No, you tell her that, and she didn't say anything of the kind. I'm sending her your number."

"Did you make a dirty joke about me?" Tywin was definitely pretending to be lost in his paperwork. 

"I did. I'm like that." Tyrion returned to his office before his father could stare him down with those green eyes of his. 

***

"Tywin? This is Sansa Stark. Do you have a moment?"

Tywin could have ignored the call. He could have pretended to be very busy and having no time to engage in pointless conversations with young women. 

He did pretend to be lost in his work, but remembered that Sansa couldn't see it.

"Hello? Did Tyrion prank me?"

"No. This is me. I mean, Tywin. Hello."

"Oh, good. So, look, you know how my father never allows his kids to have anything expensive unless it's a car?"

"I don't. Why should I?" Tywin stood up and walked to the office window, which was a bad move, because right opposite him Sansa was standing by the window of her office. Tywin had forgotten that the Starks' office was in the building across the street.

Sansa lifted her eyes and waved at him. 

"Hello you. Looking good. Anyway. As I was saying, my dad, he's a Bond fan, so each of us received an Aston Martin for our graduation… And the point is, since the cars are vintage and my brothers are idiots, Jon sort of… well, he doesn't have a car at the moment."

"Is he alright?" Tywin asked and put his hand on the glass. Sansa mirrored his gesture.

"He is. Thank you. It's touching that you care."

"You're being smug."

"Always. That's my charm. His partner is returning from her arctic expedition. She's a scientist… Would it be totally awful if Jon and I pick you up? We'll go get Ygritte, then drop them off at their place and run away before they have very loud reunion sex?"

"What, we won't stay and watch?" Tywin smiled at Sansa. 

"No. Told you, I'm very vanilla."

"I'm too, apparently," Tywin rubbed his face. 

"No, you're not vanilla, Tywin. You're more like an old chilli." Sansa stuck her tongue out. She was wearing a black turtleneck of course, and finally, her sequined skirt.

"Going out to dance tonight?" Tywin asked.

"No. Robb spilled his coffee on me, and it turned out my favourite dance skirt was at my office… I think Arya is being mean to me. I have to be at court in an hour. And I'm wearing sequins!"

"Terrible!"

"Hey, don't judge my fashion choices, Mr I-need-a-cloak-to-be-a-drama-emperor."

"At least I'm an emperor."

"Yeah, like a penguin. Fancy, classy and absolutely terrifying." Sansa giggled. 

"Penguins are not terrifying."

"They are. Their behaviour is so scandalous a Victorian scientist didn't write about it anywhere but in his personal diary."

"That's… educational."

"No, that's Ygritte. So… you're ok with… everything?"

"What about your siblings' cars?" Tywin was just trying to prolong the conversation. 

"Well… Arya would kill you in cold blood if you touch her car. Robb's car is in a dire need of a wash, and my younger brothers don't have their cars yet. And since my mother is very old-fashioned, she doesn't approve of sex out of wedlock, so, no, they won't be picking Ygritte up, but they'll pester her about marrying Jon like, yesterday, and having about ten kids right after that."

"Sounds… terrifying."

"I know. My dad is still getting over the fact that I've had sex. Somehow, Arya being a badass doesn't bother him that much… and she's had sex too. Doubt she'll tell our parents."

Tywin laughed. 

"That's the crudest thing I've heard, and I have Tyrion."

"No one beats Tyrion. He wanted to trick you into sending me dick pics. Be careful."

Tywin didn't know whether he should laugh or cry. 

"I'll try. The little shit lives with me."

"He loves you. He loves you so much, Tywin… I love my parents of course, but Tyrion… That's Shakespeare level of love there. He'd kill for you and die for you and trick you into all sorts of shit."

"Prince Hal."

"Yes. Oh, I do love a man who knows his Shakespeare. Pick you up tomorrow at seven. See you, Tywin!" She ended the call and lowered the shades of her office.

***

Friday morning Tywin looked out of his office window to see Arya glaring at him from across the street. She was holding a huge poster that said _You hurt my sister, you die._

Tywin nodded.

Arya nodded back and picked up another poster. This one claimed that no one would even find Tywin's body.

Tywin nodded again.

Arya did so too and picked up the next poster.

_I'm not kidding._

"Wouldn't think you had it in you to kid anyone," Tywin mouthed.

Arya didn't disappoint and smirked. She lifted up another poster. 

_Sassy bitchy lion. Might like you still._

Tywin had to bow. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date and smut

Tywin couldn't tell why he was doing what he was currently doing, which is, he was shaving meticulously, glaring at his reflection in the mirror, changing his clothes three times until he was satisfied with the look. 

He could have asked Tyrion, but for once, Tyrion was having a date of his own, which Tywin knew too much about anyway. 

He looked at his reflection yet again. Would it hurt to admit that he just never wanted his children hurt? Would it hurt to admit to trying to act in their best interests only to discover that he couldn't know their best interests because they had grown up and had to be allowed to make a mess of things… Not that Tywin had ever made a mess of things. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps he still could. 

Tywin took in his black chinos and a red turtleneck. On the one hand, he looked like a reindeer. On the other hand, the colours suited him, and indeed his throat felt better. 

He put on his coat and stepped outside at seven. 

Sansa's car was parked relatively well, and Tywin could make out Jon gesturing wildly inside. 

He sneaked in like someone much younger than what he actually was. 

"Fuck! Do I smell good?" Jon was asking. 

"Hello, Tywin," Sansa smiled at him through the rearview mirror.

"Fuck!" Jon turned around in his seat. "Hi. So sorry. Fuck."

"Don't be crude!" Sansa and Tywin said together, which led to Tywin's mortification and Sansa's smug hum. 

"You always smell ok to me, Jon."

Tywin smelled the air. If any more perfume had been added to the mix, he'd have fainted. 

"No more perfume, please," Tywin asked. 

"Don't worry, he's used the entire bottle." Sansa turned to look at him. "Wow, you look awesome. You buckled up?"

Tywin nodded. 

"I can give up my place!" Jon offered. 

"The sooner we get rid of you, the better," Sansa said, although her tone was fond and even tender. She wasn't ashamed of loving her family, she was damn proud of it. 

"I appreciate it, I do. I'm sorry. I'll listen to you next time." Jon tried to lead his own defence. 

"You'd better. What's the point of a vintage car if you don't take care of her as if she were your lover?" Sansa was driving carefully, shooting Tywin winks every now and then. 

"Well, perhaps, because I do have a lover…" Jon began.

"You don't have a car to pick them up. Yeah. Adjourned." Sansa lightly hit the wheel. 

***

The airport was bustling and loud, full of light and movement. 

Sansa noticed Tywin's discomfort, not that he would ever admit to being uncomfortable, and parked somewhere dark the moment Jon got off the car and ran into the building. 

"Come on, move to the front seat," Sansa said. "Those two will be obnoxious back there."

Tywin exited the car and moved to sit next to Sansa. 

She was wearing a black peacoat with grey fur lining, her nails were just a bit chipped, betraying a need for another manicure. 

And she didn't care. She examined her nails, yes, but only to curse her manicurist and schedule. "Not my best manicure. And I'm not wearing makeup. Are you horrified by my earthly appearance?"

Tywin could feel what he wanted to say and couldn't say it. He found it endearing and lovely, that she didn't care about… being a human. Being someone whose nail polish could fall off, whose makeup was too tiresome to apply, who smelled of being warm and alive and close. 

It made Tywin wonder why Joanna hadn't let him see that side of her, why she'd chosen to hide every imperfection, as if she could have been anything but perfect. Had he made her feel this way? It was the scariest thought he'd ever had. 

"No, not at all," he ended up saying. 

"Tyrion would have said something witty," Sansa remarked.

"Well, then maybe you should have asked him out." Tywin was snapping, was losing it far too quickly. 

"Oh no, he's a friend."

"Because of his height?" Tywin was getting angrier by the moment. 

"No, because he'd do his best to be a faithful boyfriend, but that's not him. And not me," Sansa replied calmly. "Accuse me of ableism again, and I'll do that thing with the bulldozer to you too."

"Though she be but little, she is fierce," Tywin said.

"Shakespeare is a good look on you."

"Tyrion always says that my voice is the best lullaby. Not sure if it's a compliment… I forced Jaime to read by himself. I was an arse."

"There's hardly a parent who hasn't made things bad at some point. My parents are so not ok with the most things Arya and I do. They think Robb can do no wrong, but so far he has to win at least one case… And Jon disappointed them by being a Targaryen and taking up more pro bono cases than is financially wise. We all know it. All the ways we screwed each other. I swore to myself that I'd be different, but who knows? I don't even want children."

"Jo only ever wanted children. Our own. No adoption, no surrogates, nothing. She saw it as her mission and… and I allowed it."

"There was no way you could have stopped her. You respected her choice. I doubt she could have asked for a better partner."

"She hated that word too. She was so… romantic and… and old-fashioned and… I found her dead in the bath, with Tyrion wailing his lungs out."

"Tywin?" Sansa cupped his cheek. Again. "Thank you for telling me this. Tyrion is the best son you could have ever had, and I'm sure Joanna would have been both very proud of him and endlessly scandalised by his actions. Can I kiss you?"

"No!" Tywin was scared of it all. Of tenderness and softness, so easily given. 

"Sure. I'm sorry." Sansa took her hand away just in time, because a totally pissed off ginger woman in the warmest coat imaginable got into the car.

"Sansa! I don't know why I live with him! He stinks of perfume… fuck! I might need a tissue." Ygritte sneezed. Jon sat by her and tried to become invisible.

"He breaks his car, he tugs you on and… Hello, Tywin. Don't know shit about you, but Jon said I'd do well to be scared of you, so fuck you."

Sansa laughed. "Tywin, this is Ygritte and she's so badass, the necrophiliac penguins run away from her."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not one," Tywin turned to shake Ygritte's hand. 

"You'd better not be. I'd feed you to those penguins, had you been one… Makes no sense. Fucking penguins! Jon, open the window, I need to be able to breathe. You really do know nothing."

***

Jon and Ygritte left the car still arguing, and Sansa glanced at Tywin. "So… where do you want to have dinner?"

Tywin named his favourite restaurant, not that he had known he had one, but he liked the place. It was quiet and gloomy. What a date!

"They do know how to make a good steak," Sansa agreed, driving away from Jon's building. 

"They… they do."

"Make a case for them, Tywin, impress me with your legalese!"

"Is that an innuendo?"

"No, I don't think so… I mean, legalese flirting is something I haven't experienced." 

"Tyrion does it well," Tywin found himself smiling. 

"All things flirting and legalese, that's his superpower," Sansa smiled. 

***

The hostess paled when she saw Tywin. "Mr Lannister… what an unexpected pleasure. I'll try to find you a table right away."

"Not used to making reservations, are you?" Sansa took Tywin's arm and squeezed it lightly. "It's ok." She turned to the hostess. "Maybe you could set us up a table in some dark corner full of enchanted creatures and far from the toilet?"

The hostess paled even more.

A table was found eventually, indeed in a dark corner which made reading of the menu all the more difficult. 

"How about we behave obnoxiously and just demand whatever we want?" Sansa asked, having tried and failed to make out the ridiculously unreadable font. A waiter came by and stood there as if having swallowed a metal rod. 

"Fillet mignon, medium rare, and salad. Cucumbers, tomatoes and an avocado, big chunks, just olive oil," Sansa handed the waiter her menu and looked at Tywin.

"Same," Tywin decided. "And… I can't make out your wine card!"

The waiter was so pale he started glowing in the dark. 

Sansa covered Tywin's hand with hers. "Dry red, sommelier's recommendation. And I want my salad here ASAP."

The waiter nodded and scurried away.

"Now I have no excuse to steal from your plate. Should have ordered chips… Fuck, I love chips. And beer. Next time we're going out for a beer."

"Who said there will be a next time?"

"I did," Sansa shrugged and sipped her water. "Can't be a beautiful driver and a beer drinker… I feel like complaining about the good ole days like my dad."

"Well, I could always make a call," Tywin replied. Sansa's hand, warm and gentle, still rested on his own. It was grounding, better than a labyrinth, better than Joanna's faded picture. 

The food arrived in record time. Sansa ate with obvious pleasure, using her fingers as well as cutlery. "Fuck, it's awesome. I needed that. And I do need a beer."

Tywin stared at her. He couldn't even keep comparing her to Joanna anymore. Perhaps that was the day Joanna truly died, left him after all those years. 

"I'm sure I have beer back at my place," Tywin said slowly. "Tyrion wouldn't let us live without some."

"Tempting," Sansa smiled. Her lips were greasy and there was a smidge of mustard in the corner of her mouth. 

"Trying. I don't even know why I'm here."

"I'm glad you are, though," Sansa said softly. 

***

Tywin might have tried to resist, might have even been certain that he'd resist, but there he was, stumbling inside his house while holding on to Sansa for dear life and kissing her. 

Tyrion, thankfully, wasn't at home, not that Tywin cared about it when Sansa dragged her nails over his back hard enough for him to feel it through his turtleneck… Damn turtleneck, Sansa moved it away to lick and bite at Tywin's neck. "Fuck…" she gasped into Tywin's ear when he moved to kiss her jaw and pulled her own turtleneck out of her trousers, getting to touch her skin, wet and soft and warm. 

She'd got rid of her heels somewhere along the way, had discarded them without a thought, too busy with holding Tywin and kissing him. 

He shut the door of his bedroom and pressed Sansa against it. It was dark, he could only make out her silhouette, hear her gasps, feel her hands as she pulled his turtleneck off, followed by his undershirt. 

Tywin touched her stomach, couldn't let himself move his hands to touch her breasts… 

She shoved his hand down her pants. "Yes… fuck, yes, I wanted it…"

Tywin felt just like he had the first time she had driven her car with him by her side - hot and liberated, bursting, breaking at the seams, at every breath. 

He tried to lower her pants, Sansa cursed him and did it herself, and now she was standing there, her back to the wall, panting, disheveled, naked from the waist down, if not for her stockings - messed up as well, rolling and falling down her legs.

"I… I want to…" he closed his eyes trying to remember how to put it in words, how to even say it… "Go down on you. Eat you out. What's the right term?"

"Just… just do it. I get it. You have my consent." She raised her arms. 

Tywin dived down between her legs, breathing her in, burying his face in the soft curls, darker between her legs, smelling so good, smelling so real.

He licked inside her, moved his mouth to suck on her clit.

Sansa cursed again, then mumbled something Tywin couldn't understand what she was saying, the soft skin of her inner thighs was around his face. 

He awkwardly moved her legs to rest on his shoulders and the rose to his feet, sliding Sansa up the wall. Her taste and smell overwhelmed him. He cupped her arse to hold her where he wanted, needed her, lapping at her folds, sucking and teasing and kissing. His fingers proved to be long enough to touch and prod at her anus and stick his forefinger inside her.

"Fuck… fuck, you're so good at it… fuck! Yes… Fuck… Yes, do it like this, baby, don't stop, don't stop…" Sansa screamed, her climax flowing into Tywin's mouth. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop."

He didn't think he could stop, he lapped and licked her, snarling and growling. 

He'd spent years without any kind of intimacy, and now he could touch and pleasure someone… Someone open and lovely, someone kind, someone gentle. Her weight over his shoulders meant nothing, as long as he could keep pleasuring her, making her come into his mouth again and again, cursing her oversensitivity and encouraging him to keep going. 

She had come quite a few times before Tywin gently lowered her and pulled her top off, unhooked her bra and held her close. 

She was still trembling in his arms, muttering something about returning the favour. 

"No. Inside… want to be inside you. If I may."

"There are condoms in my bag, but I'm clean and on the pill. My period is a bitch."

Tywin kissed her then. She trusted him with her taste and pleasure, she trusted him with her smell, with her humanity, with her realness. It had all been a joke before her, a long cruel prank which he had believed to be real. "Thank you. I'm… I haven't… since Joanna."

Sansa held him. "Take me to bed, ok?"

Tywin carried Sansa over to the bed, made sure she was comfortable before seeking her lips once again.

"You're amazing, you know that? You should know that… Fuck, Tywin, I don't remember coming this much… fuck, you're a sly devil, you… fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He pushed inside her. She was so wet he could barely feel any friction, but she moved her hips up, meeting his own movements, kissing him and gasping for him.

"Harder, fuck, Tywin, harder, I won't break!"

Tywin listened. He kissed her and touched her and reached down between them to rub her, all the while pounding into her, as hard as he could, and he wanted to drown there, to be reborn there, between her legs, to be young again, to be foolish for once. 

"Fuck, fuck… Tywin, I'm… fuck! Touch my arse, please, fuck…"

He cupped her buttock, pressed himself closer to her. 

Sansa groaned into his ear, deafening and demanding and soft, so soft, so careful, so gentle… 

He spilled inside her. 

"It's… I've never done it for fun…" 

"We're so doing it for fun again. Tywin, you…" Sansa stopped herself in order to kiss him more. "That's incredible, that's so good, you made me feel so good, you idiot old man… You're amazing."

She tried to catch her breath - and hold on to Tywin, but the only thing he found himself concentrating on was the way they tasted together…

He scooted down, eating her out, swallowing them both down. Some part of him tried to insist it was gross, but that part was quickly silenced by another one, the one that kept repeating that they tasted good together, that they rhymed, that they… No. Not made for each other, no. 

But the way she squirmed in his arms, the way she screamed his name and endless  _ baby _ s and  _ darling _ s while he ate her out, it was all worth it. 

He couldn't say when he passed out but the next thing he knew was Sansa's biting his shoulder. "Tywin? Baby, you're alright? Do you want me to stay the night?"

Tywin turned around and held her close. "Please…" He begged. "Please, stay the night. Please, Sansa, stay the night."

"Ok… good. Didn't want to be anywhere else. Yes. You're a sex bomb, do you know that?"

Tywin hadn't known that but accepted it all the same, since it meant falling asleep on Sansa's chest, with his arms around her. 

***

Saturday morning Sansa got up first to make coffee. 

Tyrion cursed at the sight of her wearing his father's turtleneck and nothing else, and promised to find a place for himself. Sansa wished him luck and proceeded to manipulate the coffee machine to get herself a cappuccino. 

She made it two and brought both cups back to the bedroom. "I don't know how you like your coffee but I had to fight your coffee machine to get it the way I like it, so enjoy my spoils of war." 

For a while they sat on the bed, sipping on their coffee. Tywin had always thought that he hated cappuccino but in the end, it all depended on the company, so a cappuccino next to Sansa tasted just as well as Tywin's favourite double espresso. 

Sansa suggested they should drive back to hers and have breakfast there. She didn't want to leave Tyrion hungry, however, therefore she ordered breakfast for him with strict instructions for the delivery person to leave it by the door.

She wrote at least two notes for Tyrion, informing him about the food and the location of aspirin. She insisted on providing the geographic coordinates as well. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of sex and Shakespeare

The morning was frantic so it occurred to Tywin that he hadn't showered or shaved only when he and Sansa arrived at her place. Tywin wasn't even sure what he was wearing - a brief glance at the mirror by the door confirmed his worst fears - he looked disheveled, wearing yesterday's clothes… His turtleneck smelled of Sansa.

Sansa looked a proper mess too, but didn't seem to be bothered by it in the least. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders. 

Tywin was taken out of his reverie by Sansa's hand on his face. "Have shower with me? Or I could make us breakfast while you shower but then we won't eat together."

"Shower with you," Tywin rasped back. What was he doing there? What was she doing with him and to him? Was it a prank, still?

"I'm glad you've made the right decision. I was beginning to worry." She smiled and took his hand. "Come with me."

Sansa's bathroom wasn't that big but the shower was a work of art, with royal blue tiles and the glass doors so clear and clean that Tywin would have walked right into them. 

"What would you say to spending a few hours naked? Then I could wash and dry your clothes." Sansa spoke as she undressed, without teasing or shame, with a bit of hopping out of her pants and stockings. 

"I'm… amiable."

"The last thing I'd call you," Sansa kissed his nose. "Now, get out of your clothes and into my shower. I'll put your clothes into the washing machine."

Tywin listened to her. He couldn't argue with Sansa anyway and was beginning to accept it. 

The hot water made him hiss with pleasure-pain and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the glass door, still cool, a welcome contrast to the water. 

Two arms wrapped around him from behind, he felt a kiss on the back of his head. "Are you trying to boil yourself?"

Tywin turned around and kissed her. When they kissed, he couldn't think and ponder and doubt and suspect. 

Sansa moaned into his mouth approvingly. "Can I wash you? I want you to wash me." 

Tywin could only nod and even that became too much when Sansa began massaging his back and shoulders, playfully groped his arse and slid a soaped up hand between the buttocks. "Ok?" She asked. 

"Yes… yes. I've never…"

"Oh, don't worry, you're the virgin here. Let me take care of you…"

"And you?"

"Pick the soap up." 

For this Tywin would have to let go off Sansa's hips which at the moment appeared most unsafe, so he pressed their foreheads together, focused on Sansa's hands - one teasing his hole in slow circles and the other on his shoulder, steadying him. 

"I can't… move."

"Because you're terrified or because you're enjoying yourself too much?" Sansa asked seriously. 

"Both. Don't stop."

"Only if you ask me to." She cupped the back of his neck and moved her hand from his arse to his front. For a moment her touch disappeared, Tywin looked down to see her washing her hand and adding more soap before gently taking his cock. She moaned before Tywin, rocked her head from side to side against Tywin's forehead. "You feel so good, baby… Feels so good to touch you."

The water slid down their bodies in warm rivulets, the steam rose slowly warming the air between and around them. 

"You're heavy and gentle… I think if you do that thing you did yesterday, against the wall, I'd fall over the shower door and that would be painful but hilarious." Sansa chuckled and pressed a kiss to Tywin's throat. 

"Won't hurt you." 

"I know, baby. I know… that's why it feels so good."

"Do I have to have some of your former lovers killed?" Tywin raised his head and hands, held Sansa's face, searching for any bad memories in her eyes. 

"No, no need. Fuck them, actually." She leaned to his ear. "There were just two, but it's none of your business."

"Still twice more," Tywin closed his eyes again. Sansa's strokes remained slow, not even teasing, but instead her caresses were languid, grounding. "I think I'm jealous… of mostly everything right now."

"Kiss me." 

Tywin really couldn't refuse her, to ignore her request. With a sigh he leaned down and obeyed. Sansa moaned louder, gasped when Tywin bit at her bottom lip, bit him back. 

Tywin heard himself growl. He wrapped Sansa in his arms and held her flush against himself, rubbing her back, touching her arse. 

"Can I… do you like your breasts touched?" 

"Hmm… I want you to touch them. Just… don't grope." 

She turned in his arms, leaning on the shower door, her arms slightly raised above her head and held close together. 

Tywin kissed down her back, then up, until he could nip at her neck, let his hands trace the curves of her body from her hips up to her breasts. They felt… right in his palms, soft, somehow tickling his skin. He squeezed just a bit, just to make his touch a bit stronger. Sansa moaned and canted her hips towards his crotch. 

"Want to… want to kiss you everywhere."

"Shouldn't you wash me first?"

"You're not dirty, my girl. I doubt you can ever be…" Tywin pressed his palms to Sansa's stomach and knelt behind her, nuzzling a buttock, biting here and there. 

He moved on hand to her arse to ease his way in, to her most intimate, private place that she trusted him with. 

Sansa whined and tensed when Tywin's tongue touched her fluttering hole. She tasted of heat, of her sweat, of musk, of herself. Tywin couldn't hold back another growl when Sansa pushed back onto his face. "Yes… do it again, take what's yours," he whispered, unsure of whether she could hear him. 

"Your stubble… feels funny there," Sansa let out a giggle that turned into a moan when Tywin pulled her to himself and licked again, then latched onto her and sucked.

"Baby… oh, yes, fuck, yes, yes. Tywin, yes, yes, aaah."

He stopped only when he noticed that his funny feeling stubble was leaving angry red marks on Sansa's tender skin. 

He heavily rose to his feet, covering Sansa with his body. He could feel her legs tremble. He wasn't any better himself. 

"You're… no one has done that to me. It was so good, darling. Thank you." 

The wet hair plastered across her face and shoulders, she was smiling blissfully. 

"We should get out," Tywin suggested. 

"Yeah, eventually. There are spare heads for the toothbrush… somewhere." She waved vaguely. Tywin followed her gesture and wiped the glass. There was a small chest of drawers under the sink, Sansa must have been referring to it. 

"Thank you," he kissed her shoulder. 

"And if you want to shave, please, don't. I don't shave and I don't have any razors."

"So I'll have to leave in order to shave," Tywin finished her thought. "And I don't want to… I can't kiss your arse better because it will only make it worse… I'm sorry…"

"Shut up. It was fantastic. Do it again but with more oil. I could be your salad."

They snorted together and finally moved to leave the shower. Tywin got handed a huge white towel that he wrapped around himself like a toga. Sansa made a dress out of hers with experienced grace. 

They took turns brushing their teeth, Sansa arranged her hair in a braid that dripped down her mostly naked back.

"What should we eat?"

"You said I'm eating you." 

"Oh no… everything I said is being used against me, and you're the one who was terrified!" Sansa laughed. She moved to walk out of the bathroom, but Tywin caught her wrist and tugged her back, just enough force to make his intent clear. 

Sansa looked at him questiningly, close and real, the realest thing Tywin had ever experienced. "My girl," he whispered. "My prosecutor, my defender… I'm ridiculous."

"Go on," Sansa demanded and added softly, "you're doing so well. I like what you're saying."

"I… don't have the… soft, tender words. What… what it means to me, and I… Shit!" Tywin hid his face in Sansa's neck. "I'm eloquent. I know I am."

"You can call me your girl. You can call me your counsel. I think it's just the right amount of ridiculous and inappropriate and therefore splendid."

"My opposing counsel," Tywin muttered under his breath. "With my history, no one would have been scandalised if I referred to you as sister." He snorted bitterly.

"I would be scandalised."

"Fair enough."

"How about we have something light like coffee and whatever biscuits I have and then, once your clothes are ready, we can go out for beer and chips?"

"Sounds good. Can I kiss you again?"

"You've brushed your teeth, no need to ask." Sansa leaned in first.

***

Turned out Sansa had some very decent lemon biscuits which went well with coffee. Tywin's clothes were transferred to the dryer, then Sansa was transferred onto the dryer. 

Tywin held her legs wide apart, so that Sansa wouldn't get another stubble burn. The first one Tywin had treated with coconut oil in the kitchen while Sansa was trying to have her biscuit. 

He kissed and nipped at her clit, stopping only for slow licks from her perineum to her labia and back. 

"Baby… baby, you're stunning but… how about we move to the bedroom?"

"Just a bit more," Tywin asked, looking up at Sansa. "Please."

"Am I the first woman you went down on?" Sansa sat up, her thighs over Tywin's shoulders. 

"Yes."

"And… has… anyone returned the favour?"

"No. And you don't have to… it's… gross." 

"If you don't want it, I won't do it, but you've been eating me out both ways and I think you shouldn't speak about gross."

"You're not gross. Do you… do you really want to… to go down on me?"

"I'd like to," Sansa replied softly. "Let's get into the bed."

Tywin followed her to the bedroom. 

"Tywin, lie down, please. I want to sit on your face, so that we can go out on each other. Sounds fair?"

"Extremely. I'm scared."

"Then I won't do anything."

"Can I… continue what I started?"

"Please do," Sansa smiled and lay down next to Tywin. A moment later she was moaning, a litany of petnames and praises falling off her kiss bitten lips. 

She came twice, and demanded that Tywin  _ got that dick inside her _ with her thighs shaking with the aftershocks. 

Tywin didn't mean to tease but he went slowly, barely moving, more like rutting, kissing Sansa's lips and caressing her flanks and legs. 

"You're beautiful, you know?" Sansa whispered. She looked him straight in the eye. Tywin couldn't bring himself to look at her and couldn't quite avert his eyes. 

"I don't. I'm not. I shouldn't be. It's not what's important in a man…"

"Don't spit that nonsense at me while you're still inside me."

"I'm sorry… I'm old, that's what I was taught, it was…" He stopped moving. "I've always had… so many thoughts and questions. Single-mindedness seemed like a solid solution. I didn't have to figure anything out, and Joanna was like that too, in a way."

"Tywin, let's stop for now, ok? We can talk. If you need to come, I could touch you. You could touch yourself for me…" Noticing Tywin's horrified face, she added, "And that's too much, alright. You don't have to do anything you don't like."

"I like eating you out."

"I noticed." Sansa pulled Tywin's head to rest on her chest. "You're awfully good at it, too. And I see you like… giving pleasure."

"It's… your invincible defeat, when you fall apart because I did something… I never felt like this."

"My beautiful blushing Victorian maiden. You know, when I went to college, I knew nothing about sex. My parents tried to hide everything from us. Arya would find something out every now and then but we knew nothing. Jon and Robb included. So, in college I ended up getting into quite a few absolutely idiotic situations I don't even want to think about. Had a friend, Marg. She… she uses her sexuality as a weapon of mass destruction. She's suave, exquisite, maddening, seductive - and very kind. She saw nothing wrong with using her beauty for her gain, and well, no one has ever complained. She took it upon herself to enlighten me. My mom still hates her guts. Dad blushes like a tomato every time he runs into her. Marg would seat us down, me, Arya, Jon and Robb, and she would explain in great detail what was what and how one should never be embarrassed about one's desires and fantasies, and how basically nothing was wrong if consent has been established… I owe her a lot." Sansa caressed Tywin's ear as she spoke. "What I'm trying to say is… I'm not ashamed of myself. Not ashamed of you. I told you, I feel safe with you… so safe. And I feel I'm keeping you safe too." Sansa squeezed Tywin's shoulder. "I'll keep you safe, my opposing counsel."

***

Tywin woke up to a puddle of drool he'd made on Sansa's shoulder, and Sansa's frowning at her book. 

"Afternoon, Tywin." She turned to look at him. "Feeling rested?"

"I drooled on you."

Sansa rolled her eyes. "And I came in your mouth. I'm not grossed out. Beer and chips? I've been patient."

***

The day was cool and windy, but for once sunny. Sansa wore warm black leggings, high-heel lace up boots and a double-breasted dress coat with heavy silver buttons. 

"My dominatrix look," she announced when she finished getting dressed. 

"You're taller than me now, so I'm thoroughly dominated." Tywin tried to shrug his embarrassment off. He had a nagging suspicion that Joanna would have loved to dress like that and would have never let herself admit it. Or wear it.

They walked to the river and alongside it, down to an old dock that had recently been transformed into a park which sought to look as if the plants had reclaimed an industrial place and instead appeared quite tame, with a few shops and cafes, and a chippie that Sansa recommended.

With beer and fancy wrappings of fish and chips that, yet again, pretended to be a newspaper but for whatever reason had an old anatomic atlas printed on it, they moved closer to the water and sat on the parapet. Sansa dangled her legs over the river and enjoyed her late lunch, cursing at the pigeons and seagulls.

"For a place so full of pretense, they do have great food," she groaned around a mouthful of chips.

"Judging by the pictures on the wrapping they want to put you off your appetite."

"Well, I'm a hot-blooded human being and I'm hungry, so… I'm ok. You?" 

"More than so," Tywin replied softly.

"Want to stay at my place tonight? I could drive you to your place for some clothes. I encourage you to grow a beard, this silver fox look of yours is indecently sexy." She giggled. 

"Most people here think I'm your father."

"That's terrible… do you think they might hit on you? Should I behave possessively?"

"Then they'll think you're my… concubine is the word?"

"Sugar baby? Oh, if only they knew. That's the second meal of ours that I'm paying for and I intend to keep it that way. You're a single dad after all."

Tywin chuckled. 

"Or, or I could be your mistress. A home wrecker."

"With those heels you're wearing, I wouldn't blame the people who might think so…" Tywin frowned. "I don't know what I myself think. The things were clearer a few days ago, before… you. Now I'm lost and feel quite stupid."

He raised his eyes to look at Sansa only to see her crestfallen. "I don't understand. Why are you doing any of it if you're unhappy?"

"I'm not unhappy, no!" He reached for her hand. "I'm… free. Delighted. I've lived like I thought I was supposed to live. It took you a few days to make me doubt everything, but I… I don't regret it. You make me think so much, Sansa! I begin to think my late wife hated being intimate with me… I thought it was the way she had been raised, but now, being with you, I think…"

"Maybe she was asexual," Sansa said quietly. 

"What's… what's this?"

"Asexual means that you don't feel sexual attraction. It's a whole spectrum. There are people who don't want sex in any shape or form, there are people who might have sex because they know their partner likes it and they want to show their affection that way too. It's… nothing is clear, I think." She looked at her beer. "And that's the beauty of things."

"For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so," Tywin recited. 

"Oh baby, you're driving me crazy," Sansa purred and bit the tip of Tywin's nose. "Actually, there's something I'd like you to do, if you indulge me…"

***

In the evening, after another long shower and a simple dinner, Sansa sat on her bed, naked and cross-legged, while Tywin perused her shelves.

"You have Shakespeare like this?" He showed her a thick volume of Shakespeare's complete works.

"Don't be a snob. His very first folio was just like this. Just… bigger."

"What do you want me to read?"

"Whatever you choose."

Tywin opened the book and sat in front of Sansa, also cross-legged and naked. 

"Surprise me, though. Your voice is brilliant for drama, but go for something unexpected."

"What's wrong with my voice?"

"Nothing's wrong with your voice, stop it! Your voice is deep and sexy and commanding, but you don't need to be any of those!"

Tywin shook his head. This whole idea was ludicrous but Sansa asked for it. 

"Alright… here." He cleared his throat.  _ Your master quits you; and for your service done him, _

_ So much against the mettle of your sex, _

_ So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, _

_ And since you call'd me master for so long, _

_ Here is my hand: you shall from this time be _

_ Your master's mistress. _

Tywin raised his head and saw Sansa looking at him with her eyes glimmering in the twilight. 

"More," she said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tywin quotes Hamlet and read from Twelfth night


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned is an arsehole for once.

They would have lunch almost every day, unless either or both of them had a business lunch, about which Sansa always complained that the food was terrible and she couldn't get behind a conversation when she was being purposefully fed something lacking in nutrition and taste. 

"Lettuce is an accursed plant," she'd say every time. Her own salads always lacked lettuce. Tywin found it amusing at first, or rather he called it amusing, until it puzzled him why something  _ amusing  _ made him wistful and too warm in the cold autumn weather. The word was  _ endearing,  _ of course. 

Friday to Sunday Tywin stayed at Sansa's place, and during the week and depending on the day, it was either Sansa staying at Tywin's or they spent the night separately. 

"You should move in with her, and that's it," Tyrion said during one of those nights when he walked down for a snack and found his father brooding over a decaffeinated tea. 

"I think it's more appropriate that she moved in with me," Tywin replied. 

"Appropriate? This is Sansa Stark… oh, I need to tell you something. You'll love it!" Tyrion sat across from his father. 

"I very much doubt it."

"Oh stop it! So, first, you need to catch up on the news about your children, and I mean Jaime. He keeps telling me that he and Ms Tarth are just very good friends, but I can't watch him stare at her longingly. It's too… sweet."

"Do I stare at Sansa longingly?" Tywin asked out of the blue.

"No, you are incapable of that, at least for now. You either glare or smirk, usually. When you look at her, you're very serious and a bit dumbfounded. Precious. As I was saying, Jaime looks at Brienne as if she were every good thing in the world, including chicken soup, ice cream, puppies, kittens and the love of one's life. Brienne doesn't understand why he looks at her that way but looks at him with the same amount of longing. I could earn a fortune, should I capitalise on it. Cersei, obviously, doesn't like it. Fuck, she's called me! Me, of all people! I assume you're the next, so get ready. Hold Sansa's hand or something."

"Enough."

"No, it's not enough. The other day I was at court, ran into Ned Stark having  _ a conversation _ with Sansa about her dating a much older man, and how you are old and cunning and must have tricked her into your bed. Of course it was all hush-hush, low voice and a lot of blushing… And then Sansa Stark, my stepmother-to-be, glared her own adoring father down and told him that he was an idiot, that she couldn't be tricked into anything and prefers to make her own decisions. He threatened to fire her."

Tywin gritted his teeth. 

"Oh, don't worry. She told him, and rest assured, she used the setting to her benefit wonderfully, that she was a partner in her own right, that the majority of shareholders doubted that Ned's old-fashioned and narrow-minded approach could work well in this day and age - and threatened to vote him out of his own firm. She's awesome. Move in with her. You're good for each other. Young, old, Stark, Lannister, who the fuck cares? You look alive for the first time… ever."

"And you?" Tywin chocked on his words. "You, will you be alright?"

"Dad, I stayed here out of choice. I wanted to support you and be the ideal son you've always wanted."

"You… you're the ideal son."

"Now, let's avoid crying, I don't want to be puffy-eyed tomorrow. I have a court hearing. And my stepmother-to-be will be worried if you are puffy-eyed. Let's hold it together. Whiskey?"

Tywin nodded. 

"Tyrion?"

"Yes?" He placed a tumbler by his father's hand and returned to his place across from him.

"Tell me… about blow jobs."

Tyrion spat his whiskey out. "Sorry. Didn't expect that… sorry. Yes, blow jobs. What do you want to know?"

"Do you… enjoy them?"

"Immensely. A way to die, as far as I'm concerned. Pleasantly drunk, eating out the woman I'm infatuated with while being sucked off by her. Tremendous. Why?"

"I… I enjoy going down on her. It's… I love it! But I can't let her kneel for me. It's… humiliating."

"69 answers all your demands, then."

"She suggested it, but I… isn't it gross? We urinate from there."

"Showers are great, I heard. Women  _ urinate  _ too, by the way, and again, showers are great. Some like it dirty.  _ I  _ like it dirty, but you know, if everyone involved has consented to it… If we're being all open and honest and rather inappropriate, and that's coming from me, do you mean to say that mom had never given you head?"

"Sansa thinks mom was asexual."

"Interesting. I think she was prudish. Wanted everything to be Victorian but without the frustrations it brings. We'll never know now and it doesn't do us any good to dwell on it. You're in for a hell of a sexual awakening anyway."

"I don't want it! And she doesn't insist, she tells me I don't have to… but suddenly the whole world is full of… blow jobs."

"That's a good reflection on the legal system. She's right, your lady friend and my stepmother-to-be. You don't have to do a thing you don't feel like doing. Would you like to bond like proper old perverts and let me show you some porn? Neither of us can sleep and porn is notoriously monotonous. No plot, no witty dialogue. I should film porn!" Tyrion brightened. "Not under the family name, of course. The dwarf of the Casterly Rock! No one knows that's the name of this house, and it's a good porn name."

"You're not a dwarf! Or an imp! Or any of those words… Tyrion, I had people fired, I ruined careers and families for calling you so."

"I shouldn't be touched but… I'm afraid I am. We should watch porn, or I'll cry."

***

Sansa took to bringing Tywin their lunch in order to scandalise her father - and to spend some time outside of her office. 

"Chinese Tuesday, baby," she put the bags on Tywin's table. "Dumplings for us both and very bland noodles for you, if you're being grumpy."

"I watched porn with Tyrion last night. It was disgusting. Please, never give me a blow job." Tywin looked up at her. Sansa's hair was a bit of a mess and she had left a pencil there. "You have a pencil in your hair."

"It's there for a reason, I overslept this morning because I was thinking about someone who spent the night watching porn with his son." She leaned over the desk to kiss Tywin. "My dad tried to talk me out of seeing you… Tyrion saw it, so I guess he has told you about it."

"He did. Please…"

Sansa pushed the bags away and sat on Tywin's desk cross-legged. "Baby," she lifted his face to her, "you're my darling and I like having you in my life, and you're very dear to me. I made a scene and I told my dad that…"

"You'll vote him out of his own firm."

"Yes. And this morning I told him that if he says another thing to me, I'm gonna have my way with you against the window of my office. I'll find photographers."

Tywin paled. 

"Kidding. But my father doesn't need to know that." Sansa thumbed Tywin's lips. "You're… I'm happy with you, ok? I hope you're happy with me."

"Very."

"Good. Let's be outrageous and eat."

Tywin ended up sharing the bland noodles with Sansa who remained hungry even after devouring most of the dumplings. 

"Why didn't you get dessert, my girl?"

"Well, because I didn't want anything they had to offer… I want a donut."

"Can I send my assistant to fetch you one?"

"No, leave the poor fellow alone. I'll be fat and happy one day," Sansa sighed blissfully. She was still sitting on Tywin's desk. "Baby?"

"Sansa, I'm sixty…"

"Oh shut up. You're my baby. Move in with me? It's terrible without you. No one goes down on me in the shower, no one holds on to me during the night. A weighted blanket doesn't do your job, you know."

Tywin was sure he was gazing up at Sansa longingly. 

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I can always kick you out without worrying about you," she winked. 

"I wish I could be brave enough to drag you to a bathroom and go down on you right now."

"I'll think of it in the bathroom back in my office. Move in with me, baby."

***

Tywin had just won a case and was texting Sansa about it with probably the right amount of gloating when he heard someone clearing their throat nearby. 

Looking up he saw Ned Stark.

"Tywin."

"That's my name.  _ Ned. _ How can I help?"

"You're a… a proper man, like me, or so I thought. You… respect traditions and…"

"I respect your daughter. I take it you want to talk about her. And in public, yet again. One would think you're seeking to destroy yourself."

"You're a dangerous man to take on without witnesses."

Tywin looked over Ned's shoulder where Sansa was waiting for him, two pencils in her hair this time… Maybe it was Arya's way to make Sansa cut her hair or at least accompany Arya to a hairdresser. 

She wore a pencil skirt, which meant she hadn't done her laundry, because she hated pencil skirts. There was a stain from her morning cappuccino on her peacoat. She favoured her right leg, so her new shoes needed some more breaking in. 

Tywin wanted to go to her and take her hand and go shopping with her, to get her Uggs or Blundstones, out of tender spite; to buy her high-heeled Uggs at least, he was sure they existed, and if not, they should have. His girl was hurting and waiting for him, and he had to face her puritan of a father. 

And the most hurtful thing was that he had used to be like that too. 

"I trust your daughter to make her own choices."

"Just like you let  _ your  _ daughter to make hers?" Ned replied. 

Tywin who hadn't spent each night wrapped up in Sansa's arms, being a fucking little spoon, who hadn't known the taste of himself and Sansa together, who had been alone and bitter, that man would have snapped at Ned. 

The man who wanted to go home with his opposing counsel could admit to his defeats and remain invincible. "I was a bad father, maybe even a bad husband. I'm not discussing my private affairs with you, Ned. I want to go home and so do you."

Sansa walked over to them and glared at her father. "Is it unbearable for you to know I'm happy? Fuck off, dad, I don't want to see you and I don't want to talk to you. Fire me, if you want, but half the firm will walk away with me, as will our most lucrative clients. I can play the game just as well." She turned to Tywin. "Come, baby, you promised me risotto and I demand a feet massage. We'll need to get some more coconut oil." She grabbed Tywin's arm and dragged him away.

"My girl, I'm so sorry…"

"Shut up!" Sansa started the car. "I'm getting a new car too. Fuck! They screwed me so much, and… fuck! Sorry, baby, I'm just so mad!"

"What… what do you have in mind? About the car?"

***

Tywin made the risotto and gave Sansa her feet massage. 

Once Sansa was asleep, Tywin got up and dialed up his assistant. "I need a car. Chrysler Crossfire, grey or black. I'll double your salary if you can get it by tomorrow evening… Yes, it's for Sansa…"

***

"You bought me a car," Sansa stared down her brand new silver Chrysler Crossfire.

"No, I got you a car by bribing my assistant. It took less time. You could pay me back."

Sansa slammed her bag on her new car and pulled out her checkbook. "Baby, I appreciate the gesture, I really do. So, here's is the deal, I'm buying this car from you. Alright?"

"Absolutely! Let me write down the sum."

Sansa took her checkbook back and glared at the sum. "You're doing groceries for a year."

"I'm doing groceries for a year," Tywin echoed.

During the weekend Sansa drove her Aston Martin back to her parents' house and left it there, keys and all. 


	6. Chapter 6

Sansa opened the door. 

"You're wearing sweatpants, my father's fanciest dress shirt and Louboutins," Jaime said. 

"I'm not accepting fashion advice from a man who wears jogging shoes at ten p.m." Sansa stepped aside to let Jaime in. 

Jaime walked in, revealing Tyrion in the process.

"I think you look impeccable, stepmother-to-be," Tyrion said, raising his hands. 

"Might let you drive a pumpkin to a ball," Sansa replied. "Tywin, it's your sons."

"I'm surprised you're not wearing Sansa's petticoat," Jaime said, making himself at home in the kitchen. "What does it smell of? Are you making lasagna?"

"We were," Tywin glared at Jaime. "Then bechamel… got burnt."

Sansa snorted. "Sorry, but… that's the way to put it. Kudos!"

(Sansa was making bechamel, following the recipe and fretting over it, until Tywin absolutely had to kiss her, and lower her pants and have her on the kitchen counter, with sobs and moans and half-swallowed love confessions. He'd intended to address it tonight, but his sons had other plans for him.)

"Now it's a shepherd's pie, and your father is doing awesomely!" Sansa walked to Tywin and kissed him. 

"Spare me…" Jaime began.

"Shut up! You've pissed off our stepmother! Spit it out. Can I have cognac?" Tyrion made puppy eyes at Sansa. 

Sansa just nodded and went to fetch the required beverage. 

"She doesn't have a petticoat," Tywin growled through his teeth. "What do you want? I had emotionally draining plans for the evening."

"Oh my gosh," Tyrion covered his mouth with his hand. "Jaime, how could you?"

Sansa returned with a bottle of Hennesy and tulip-shaped glasses.

"That's not the way to drink cognac," Jaime felt compelled to say.

"Shut it. The Cognac experts say it should be these glasses. Otherwise you feel the alcohol and don't feel the aroma." 

"Serves me right," Tyrion replied. "Not arguing with you, Sansa. Never."

Sansa poured their drinks and brought Tywin his glass.

She leaned in as if to kiss his cheek, but once she was close enough to Tywin's ear, she whispered, "I love you, love you, love you, silly old man, I love you so much, baby." She did kiss his cheek afterwards.

"So… Jaime here wants to propose to Brienne," Tyrion began.

"Good luck with that, you idiot," Sansa chuckled. "She thinks you're friends."

"Father!" Jaime complained. 

"Don't know anything!" Tywin drank his cognac far too quickly. 

"Not pouring you more, baby, you're in charge of dinner."

"Can you stop calling my father baby?" Jaime asked. "It's gross!"

"I'm not calling  _ you  _ baby. You're not my baby. You can't get your shit together. You don't deserve to be my baby." Sansa shrugged.

"Smart," was all Tywin said. 

"And she's wearing Louboutins with sweatpants!" Jaime complained again. 

" _ She  _ is right here and I don't know why you're here. You need my blessing? Brienne could have had so much better but seems to long for you, if Tyrion is to be believed," Tywin looked at Tyrion.

"Why would I be doubted?" Tyrion downed his drink too fast as well.

"You lot can't drink properly!" Sansa exclaimed. "Jaime, Brienne thinks you're friends. So… maybe start with telling her about… your feelings?"

"Seems like a healthy approach," Tywin agreed.

"Fuck you all! The only relationship I've been in was the one with my own fucking sister! I don't do healthy relationships! I screw everything!" 

"Hey! Shut up!" Sansa gave up on breaking in her shoes and stepped down her heels with a satisfied sigh.

"Wait, let's be adults here!" Tyrion offered.

"Well, no one here is trying to propose to their friend out of the blue!" Sansa retorted.

Tywin considered the ring in the back pocket of his jeans. He owned jeans now. Sansa had bought them for him, they fit perfectly. His Sansa, his girl, his love and lover and his best friend. 

"Dad, you're looking dreamy. Should I rescue you from this minx?" Jaime suggested with a smirk. 

"Can I have more cognac, stepmother? I behaved?" Tyrion lifted his glass to Sansa. 

"Look," Jaime started anew, "she's… Brienne, she's good and honourable, she's straight out of an epic poem. I went to the army to be like her, to protect, to shield… And I shielded a bastard who tortured and maimed and never had enough mercy to kill swiftly. I… What I have… had with Cersei. It's… it pales in comparison, it's nothing, a night of drinking resulting in a headache."

"Should have found you all a therapist," Tywin snapped. 

"But you didn't!" Jaime snapped back. 

"Hey, we're not here to discuss what mistakes we've made. Well, you've made."

"Then why are you with me?" Tywin asked, horror and anger in his eyes. "If I'm so weak, why are you…"

"Because I'm strong enough for both of us," Sansa interrupted. "I'm strong enough for myself and you and your children. It's not a barter, none of it is! We all want something good and warm and comforting, and I really don't care what anyone says of my comfort or the comfort of your children. I renounced my father because his brand of comfort grew suffocating. So… it's not a discussion of our weaknesses. For example, watch mine." She stood up, picked her Louboutins from the floor and tossed them into the garbage bin. "See? I love these shoes, they are the most beautiful shoes I've seen, and I had to talk Tywin into letting me by them for myself, because, frankly, I didn't want my lover to pay for a torture device. That one is on me. I doubt I make any sense anymore, but the pie isn't burning so I have no other getaway. Jaime, just go and fucking talk to Brienne. She's the kindest, most understanding person I know. I'm sure she won't stare you down… she might stare you down into going into therapy. But she won't tell you to never come back because you're a prick. She's too idealistic for it. Now. Shall we eat?"

***

"Sansa kissed Tywin on the lips, traced his jaw with her lips. "Love your beard, it tickles deliciously."

"I can't be playful. I… I need you. Need you all the time, can't breathe without you, my girl."

"We should get married then." Sansa pulled Tywin into an embrace. "I love you madly, baby, I love you so much. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. Marry me, baby, please."

Tywin rolled her over, kissing her breathless, caressing her, listening carefully to her moans. 

"I want to marry you," he said, kissing the underside of her breasts. "I want you, I love you, you're my best friend…" Kisses down her belly, a dip of his tongue inside her navel, a lick at her clit. "You woke me up, you lifted the curse… Sansa, will you marry me too?" He asked her labia before diving inside. 

There was nothing like bringing her pleasure, hearing an echo of each kiss and lick in Sansa's moans. She opened to him, hot, wet, unashamed, disheveled. 

"And you love Tyrion… Joanna wouldn't have loved Tyrion. I didn't know how to love Tyrion." Tywin nipped at Sansa's inner thighs. "And you love him. You put Jaime to his place… Sansa, I love you, I love you so much…"

Sansa squirmed and screamed in his arms, whispered sweet nothings into his ears. 

He was between her legs, thrusting slowly, languidly, when Sansa grabbed his arse and touched his hole. "Wanted to try it with you, baby. You ok?"

"If it's you… yes, yes, yes."

Sansa reached out to grab some lube from the nightstand and poured some over Tywin's arse and her fingers. 

She started slowly, a push, a flick, a touch, then her index finger slid inside him, all too fast, what with the amount of lube she'd used. 

"Sorry… sorry, baby, you're alright?" She kissed his temple.

"Ffffuck!" Tywin couldn't even lift his head from her shoulder. "Fuck, keep going…"

Sansa pushed in deeper, crooked her finger inside him. 

Tywin gasped and held on to her.

"Oh, baby, you're so beautiful when you're like this… when you're enjoying yourself. You deserve to be pleasured… oh, baby, darling, please, let me continue, baby, let me…" Sansa bit Tywin's ear.

Sansa was rubbing carefully against his prostate, moaning with him… Tywin reached down, under her arse where her slick pooled and rubbed his finger against Sansa's hole.

"Yes, baby, yes, do it like that, do it like that, yes…"

Tywin made himself rise on his elbows, thus driving Sansa's finger deeper inside him, and grabbed the lube. He coated his fingers with it and slowly pushed inside Sansa. 

"Yes, baby… yes, yes… Tywin! In my arse, right, just like that, just like that, you vengeful bastard, my next of kin, my love, deeper… Yes… yes, baby, yes!"

Tywin could barely feel his cock inside Sansa, but her finger inside him was demanding his attention.

"So hot, baby, you're so hot inside. Am I this hot, baby? Is it why you like it so much?" 

She pushed down on Tywin's finger in her arse, gasping for air, groaning and roaring. "You're all around me now. I'm all around you… this is how we're married, baby, only this…"

Sansa's heat burnt Tywin's fingers and he didn't want to withdraw, to stop. There was nothing and no one, just her, that girl of his who woke him up and was ready to deal with the consequences. "Love you. I love you. Please, don't leave me, please… can't lose you, my girl, can't ever lose you."

***

Every weekend they went to a bookshop and bought a book each - something small, something they could finish in two hours or so. They'd read their books in a cafe and then leave the books there for the next reader, less financially fortunate. Sansa's idea, of course. 

Tywin would read the passages Sansa particularly loved out loud. Sometimes she asked him to use that voice of his to read the silliest things. 

Tywin lived off these reading sessions at least for half a week. 

Sometimes Sansa called him in the middle of the day, standing by her window, and asked him to recite Shakespeare to her. 

Tywin would put his hand on the glass then and recite whatever he remembered. Sansa would always give a feminist commentary on every line, in the most boring tone of voice she could adopt. Tywin was reminded then what a fearsome attorney she was, how she could interpret and bend the law to her cause without much ado… much ado about everything.

***

Cersei called when Tywin was having lunch with Sansa, so he answered only to ask her to call later. 

"Cersei?" Sansa asked. 

"Yes. I'm in for quite a bit of flowery language of my own making." 

"Want me to stay and hold your hand?"

"No. My mistakes, my daughter…"

"Baby, you asked me to marry you. I'm afraid there are no things you can deal with alone anymore," Sansa replied. 

Whichever plan of retreat Tywin had been about to think up - and when did he start thinking like a military commander? - it was all for nought. 

Cersei stormed inside the office - his daughter, his mistake, his failure. 

"You!" She pointed at Sansa, who was so unlike Cersei in every way: Sansa was beautiful in her own way, on her own terms, be it pencils in her hair, be it chipped nails, be it sticking her finger down an old man's arse and calling him  _ baby  _ as she did so; and Cersei was immaculate. Tywin wasn't sure there was a person in the whole world by that point who had seen his daughter without her armour - it was as if the armour had been the only thing left. 

"I," Sansa nodded. 

"You slut!" Cersei concluded and turned to her father. "How can you let it happen? Jaime, being with that stupid cow while you yourself are fucking that…"

"Pardon me, but Brienne has evidence of being smart and humane. You're the one closer to a cow… I haven't seen enough cows to pass a judgement." Sansa rocked her foot in the air. 

Cersei, being unaccustomed to any bribes shot her way, gaped at her. 

"Jaime… you… you think you're all about your family but you let it all go down the drain…" Cersei kept talking, a lonely, bitter, disillusioned woman. 

"I'm filming it all," Sansa informed at some point, but Cersei didn't hear her and Tywin didn't care if he were about to appear in tabloids. 

When the security finally escorted her out, Tywin looked at Sansa for the first time since his daughter came in. 

"This… is all me. My mistake."

Sansa shrugged. "You didn't abuse her, didn't force her into anything. Could you have done better by her? Sure! Did you choose to do differently? No. You've tried to conform, to do what is right. What makes me so… smitten with you is that you see your mistakes."

***

Tywin called his assistant in the moment Sansa left. 

"I need a therapist. Someone… old and… sardonic."

***

That was how he found himself in front of a woman in her sixties who oozed intelligence and wit. 

"Dr Tyrell," Tywin nodded. 

"Indeed," Dr Olenna Tyrell nodded back. 

"Before we start, I'm afraid that if we go along with it, I will lose someone… dear to me."

Dr Tyrell looked at him expectantly.

"I'm not gay. I have a young lover. She loves me, I love her. I want to marry her because I don't know any other way of…"

"Binding her to you?"

"No! Of telling her that I'd do anything for her."

"A prenup might help, although it's more interesting why you think that therapy might lead you to a conclusion that you don't need to be happy. I mean, a straight white male that you are, surely you don't think you'll go to hell for having sex with a young woman?"

"I don't care about hell. I come with… a lot."

"Are you competing with her over who has a bigger trauma?"

"No. I want to do right by her. For once."

"You haven't done right by her?"

"She comes into my mouth every day, several times if I can help it."

"Oh. Boasting. But good for her."

"I'm not boasting. I think I'm doing right by her, but my life before her…"

"Well, that's more like it. You have a life with her now and you don't want to screw it up, so how about we address that  _ a lot _ you're bringing into your relationship?"

**Author's Note:**

> A person needs comments


End file.
